


Criminal Minds Drabbles

by Pouncer



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Drabble Collection, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pouncer/pseuds/Pouncer





	Criminal Minds Drabbles

#### For Shetiger, Morgan and Garcia and phones.  It's the small things.

Morgan wasn't normally one for swearing, but this situation rated: "Damn it!"

A sunny voice interrupted. "What's the matter, you hunk of a man?"

"This stupid phone -- JJ thought it would be _hilarious_ if I hear Mambo Number Five every time it rings."

"Oh sweetie, that's cruel and unusual punishment. Give it here."

Penelope fiddled with buttons and _tsked_.

"What?"

Her face was doom-laden. "Fifteen minutes."

Then she disappeared. Probably in on the joke. She'd come back with –

\-- Lady Day crooning Fine and Mellow.

"Oh, baby," he said, enchanted. "You are the _best_."

"Don't you forget it, darling."

#### For Tenshinya, Reid and his mother. Post-Revelations.

She sat in the sunlight, reflective.

Spencer stood in the doorway for a long while, watching her stare out the window, before he said, "Hello."

She turned, and her smile was radiant. "Spencer! Come give me a kiss."

He obeyed, only limping slightly while the vials in his pocket clinked.

"You've hurt yourself." Her voice was worried. "You never said, in your letters."

"It was." He didn't meet her eyes. "I couldn't write."

Her hand reached out to touch his wrist, still pale yellow from the fading bruises.

"Tell me, Spencer."

After, she hugged him while he blinked away tears.  


#### NCIS crossover, for Cedara,  Abby meets Penelope Garcia via webcam, during a case.

"Divine goddess of the BAU." Garcia answered the phone without even thinking.

"Oh, _wow_, that's a good one. I'll have to remember."

The voice on the other end of the line was unfamiliar.

"Who is this?" Dread tickled.

"Abby Scuito, NCIS. The Breslin murders? I'm forensics, and need to get with you on the hard drive question."

The encryption was robust, but nothing Garcia couldn't handle. The information, though …

"Let's caucus," Garcia said, and set up a web-conference. The woman who grinned from the opposite side was _definitely_ someone Garcia could work with.

"Oh, this'll be fun," Abby crowed.  


#### For shetiger: Approaches. Aaron Hotchner/Derek Morgan, 317 words.

Derek noticed the absence more than the presence. A thin line of paler skin on the fourth finger of Hotch's left hand – evidence that his marriage to Haley was over at last, in Hotch's overly-loyal head.

It wasn't like Derek hadn't looked before. Hotch was gorgeous, if you went for clenched jaws and furrowed brows. And Derek knew himself well enough to know that he kind of did (the contrast with … Well. Derek didn't like to think of _him_).

The whole work situation gave Derek pause, still. The BAU was damn-near incestuous in their closeness, had to be given the cases they solved. But Derek was tired of club hook-ups. Tired of going home to his dog's wagging tail and not a warm someone in his bed. His fingers wanted to trail down the defined line of a bicep, linger over the calluses regular stints on the firing range developed on palms, discover the unseen territory of coarse hair and hardening flesh.

It wasn't until New York that Derek's attraction tipped over until action. Hotch's proximity to that damn bomb had been too close, and Derek had taken too many chances in driving the ambulance away from the hospital. Hotch was angry, and Derek understood, he did. He just knew what he'd been compelled to do, given the circumstances. Kate Joyner's death highlighted the risks they faced every day, and Derek didn't want to wait anymore.

The hotel room off the Jersey Turnpike was utilitarian and sparse. Their dinner was burgers from McDonald's. Derek only liked the fries. He dipped them into ketchup and relished the taste of salt on his lips.

Hotch's mouth tasted of pickles, mustard, and special sauce. Morgan laughed softly as he pulled away.

"What?" Hotch asked, and his face looked atypically young, startled.

"I need to teach you what good food is," Morgan said, then swooped forward to claim another kiss.  


#### For darkmagic_luvr: Borrow. Emily Prentiss/Spencer Reid, 173 words.

The knock on her door came just as Emily was about to burrow under the covers and turn out the light. She groaned, because if a new lead had come in, her fatigue didn't matter, just the opportunity to solve the case.

A glance through the peephole revealed Reid looking nervous.

"Yes?" Emily said, opening the door a sliver.

"Sorry to bother you." Reid thrust a toothbrush in her face.

Emily recoiled.

"Do you have any toothpaste? I ran out in St. Louis, and forgot to buy a new tube, and they don't have any at the front desk – I called – and you're right next door, and –"

Emily opened the door wider and gestured to stop the flood of words. "Mi toothpaste es su toothpaste. Have at it."

Reid's smile shouldn't have been so wide or bright before brushing, but there it was. His appeal was more of a mystery than the criminals they hunted.

Emily sighed. Crushing over co-workers was so high school of her. She couldn't seem to stop, though.  


#### For kayim: Notice. 177 words.

Spencer didn't mean for any of the team to notice. He'd chosen the location deliberately as one unlikely to be revealed during usual work hours. Not that anything about the BAU was usual; he should have known it wouldn't be possible to hide forever.

"Whoa," Derek said, staring. "When did you get that, pretty boy?"

Spencer never knew whether to blush or preen when Derek called him pretty.

"A while ago," Spencer said, trying for nonchalant. "Tattoos are traditional in societies around the world to mark significant occasions, after all. Did you know the Maori –"

Derek cut him off. "You're not Maori. And you're not the flower type either."

Spencer shrugged. If Derek didn't recognize a poppy, Spencer wasn't going to enlighten him. Nor what the twelve leaves on the stem meant in terms of sobriety.

"I wanted it," Spencer said, and refused to elaborate further. He needed to find another pair of pants anyway, ones that weren't ripped at the waist. Derek could just keep wondering about Spencer's secrets. They all had them, after all.


End file.
